


Constellations

by FrozenWings



Series: Untitled Young Cassandra Series [3]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, LITTLE CASS, Memories, One Shot, Reminiscing, Sleepless nights, Stargazing, Which did not play out exactly how I intended, just a cute idea i had, parenting, with some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25450633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenWings/pseuds/FrozenWings
Summary: Cassandra can't sleep, and an old memory gives Cap an idea.They're both up in the middle of the night; may as well make the most of things.
Relationships: Captain of Corona's Guard & Cassandra (Disney)
Series: Untitled Young Cassandra Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817698
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	Constellations

**Author's Note:**

> Written in early July 2020 (yeah, I posted this one quick).
> 
> Ever start writing a fic and, once your halfway through, suddenly get hit with an idea for a whole new direction to take it in and just run with it?
> 
> For me, this is that fic.
> 
> As always, Cass, Cap, and the world of Tangled belong to Disney.

Even though it was muffled and barely audible, Cap was fully roused from slumber by the moan coming from the other bed that occupied the apartment. No matter how heavily he slept, there was a small library of sounds that never failed to wake him, with ‘sounds of distress from Cassandra’ being the most potent. Thankfully it was also one of the most infrequent courtesy of the girl’s laudable proclination towards self-relliance coupled with an admittedly worrisome tendency to suffer in silence rather than seek out help when she was injured or ill. Which, he suspected as he pulled on his robe, was probably the case tonight.

“Cassandra?” he said, kneeling so he was next to the shifting pile of blankets that hid the girl from view. Instantly, they stilled, as though they were fearfully holding their breath like a deer before a hunter. “I know you’re awake.” 

The blankets parted just enough for a wary hazel eye to tentatively peek out at him. “Did I wake you up?” Cass asked in the small, scared voice that used to be so common a little over a year ago but was rarely heard anymore. 

“Uh...” he hesitated on his answer, a year of nightmares having taught him that an honest ‘yes,’ even now, tended to worsen the situation; she may have forgotten her mother, but the influence she had undoubtedly had on her daughter continued to linger (he shudderd to think what consequences had awaited Cassandra for the, in her eyes, crime of waking up a parent). Correctly intepreting his silence, the hazel eye turned away and disappeared from view. “I’m sorry!” she said from beneath the protecting shield of coverlets and sheets, her words nearly a whimper. “I’m sorry I woke you up!”

“Hey,” Cap said, trying to sound reassurring (a trick he was still struggling to master). “I’m not mad, not if you have a good reason.” He paused, letting his words sink in before speaking again. “So... do you have a good reason?” 

“Maybe?” came the hesitant reply. Cap sighed, rubbing his neck; he was going to have to feed her answers, wasn’t he? This was one of those times he almost wished she was more talkative.

“Well, did you have a bad dream?” “Nu-uh,” Cass answered, the blankets shuffling left and right as she shook her head.

“Okay,” Cap said, thinking. “...Are you sick?” He was glad Cass couldn’t see how he winced as he spoke, a visual manifestation of the unease roiling in his mind at the thought. After having experienced the unique circle of Hell that was having a sick kid this past winter (which was somehow worse than being sick yourself), he had determined that whichever date _that_ happed again would be all too soon, be it in a month or a decade. “Nu-uh.” Cap heaved a sient sigh of relief. _Thank goodness for that._

He drummed his fingers on the mattress, thinking. “Does something hurt?” 

Silence from the cotton-clad lump, silence that he had learned meant a ‘yes’ she was unwilling to say (a trait that, despite what Captain Williams said, she _did not_ pick up from him). He mentally ran through the previous day, trying to recall any moments where she could have tripped or fallen or injured herself in some other fashion that previously would have never entered his mind as being within the realm of possibility. Cap came up empty, and a knot of worry tied itself in his gut; either he missed something (ergh! He could just kick himself!) or (*gulp*) she was getting sick. And she wouldn’t talk of her own volition; he’d have to drag it out of her. Well, maybe not drag; that tended to have the opposite effect. Coax, perhaps? Though he tried to keep his worry to himself, it escaped along his tongue when he spoke next, the word coming out harsher than he intended. “Cassandra?” 

Cass sighed at the accidental warning he had wrapped around her name; he wanted an answer, whether or not she wanted to give one. She sat up, pulling the topsheet around her tightly as though it were a protective cloak, and stared at her pillow rather than her father, whose eyes, she just _knew_ , were dark with disappointment (how could they be anything else? She _did_ wake him up, after all). “My ear hurts,” she said dismally, fighting the urge to reach up and finger at the hot, throbbing feeling near her left temple that had kept her up most of the night, growing in intensity until she couldn’t help but cry just a little, accidentally waking him up in the process.

Cap visibly relaxed at her answer; so she _wasn’t_ getting sick and _hadn’t_ broken something while he wasn’t looking. It ws probably just an ear infection; a distant corner of his mind vaguely remembered that kids were commonly afflicted by those. “Can I see?” 

“No!” Cass shouted, eyes wide with alarm as she clapped a hand over the offending ear before diving back into the safety of her blankets. “You’ll touch it and make it hurt more!” 

Cap grumbled quietly to himself at her sudden protest and disappearance; it had been hard enough to get her to come out once, and now he was back to square one. For perhaps the thousandth time he cursed his ineptitude and wished he were better at handling situations like these that required a delicate hand. What to do now? Simply going back to bed wasn't an option. The thought of leaving Cass to lie awake with an obviously sore ear induced the uncomfortable, thorny feeling that seemed to be some combination of guilt, sympathy, and concern which he hadn’t known a year ago. No, that wasn't an option. He recalled Cass’s words before she reclaimed her psition under the covers; if she was aftraid of him touching it, then perhaps...

Ever so gently, he reached out to lay a reassuring hand on her back, noting with pleasure how she didn't flinch, and stroked his thumb back and forth across her spine. “I promise I won’t touch it; just look.”

“Are you sure?” Cass’s muffled voice challenged back. “Every time someone says they want to look at something, they touch it.” 

“Who does that?” he asked, confused (how did she reach these conclusions?). 

“Peder did when that guy brought over a horse he was trying to sell.“ 

“Well, it’s Peder’s job to-“

“And Frau Dagmar did when I found those stockings in the gardens.” 

“Er..someone had lost those and-“ 

“And Jones did when I found that snake.”

“It's not safe to go picking up wild animals, especially dead ones” (why couldn’t she find normal little girl stuff like flowers?) 

“And you do all the time! Like when I had that splinter or when you want to brush my hair or-“ 

“Alright,” Cap interrupted, cutting her off and feeling not a little abashed as he realized the truth of her statements. “You have a point. But this time, I won’t. Guard's honor.” The blankets rustled as Cass slowly sat up, looking over at him skeptically, then nodded, shuffling closer and lowering her hand. “Okay.” 

“Good girl,” Cap said, moving to carefully brush the thick raven hair away from the offending ear. “I’m sure it’s not...” 

Cass turned to look up at him shamefully as his sentence broke off and was left unfinished. “Does it look bad?” 

Cap coughed and cleared his throat, stalling and trying to recompose himself. Did it look bad? Well, it certainly looked infected, he could tell you that. He could also tell you exactly where they’d be tomorrow. “How long has your ear been bothering you?” he opted to ask instead of answering her question. Cass looked away and wound a strand of wavy hair around a finger. “A couple of days?” she said, her words tilting upwards as though it were a question whose answer she was unsure of. 

Cap groaned again and rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” “I...thought it would go away,” came Cass’s reply as she shrunk further into her blanket cocoon. 

Cap stared down at his daughter, dimly lit by the wan starlight peering curiously nto the room. The rebuke on his tongue stamped and snorted like a ready charger, but he held the reins. She looked so small and pathetic, curled up into herself before him, sniffling the slightest bit. The obviously infected ear glowered at him angrily from behind the thicket of curls that fell back to cover it, and he found he couldn’t release the steed. As it was she was in pain, likely exhausted, and was in for a bear of a time come morning (it was hard to tell who liked who less: Cass or the castle physician); she was already paying for her actions and it was late, no sense in issuing a rebuke.

Somewhere, a clock chimed the hour, and his gaze flickered over to the window, affording him a glimpse of the sky beyond, stirring an old, disinegrating memory. It tugged at his thoughts, suggesting a course of action, and an eager light suddenly came into his eyes. Neither of them was getting any sleep anyway; may as well take advantage of the opportunity. “Here,” he said, opening up his arms. “Let’s go outside for a bit.” 

Cass looked confused, but nonetheless let him pick her up and carry her out to the small courtyard the window in their apartment overlooked. It was a warm night, the blistering heat from the day before hanging on only just enough to chase away the usual chill that accompanied the dark’s nightly domination. The high, rippling chirp of a cricket cut through the stillness, and somewhere the low, throaty croak of a frog responded. Cap walked over to a nearby bench and sat, settling Cass so she had a full view of the night sky. The moon was new and its absence caused the deep midnight blue to be filled instead with scores of distant, gleaming stars, brilliant without the competing light of the moon to contend with. They shuddered and quivered as they chittered amongst themselves like shimmering birds perched in a tree whose top was too high to see.

Cass glanced up at her father as he took in the sky, his hard featues strangely soft and almost sad as his eyes were directed towards the heavens. She leaned back against his chest as she stared, puzzled, momentarily distracted from the burning ache in her ear, and wondered at this; her father wasn’t often soft and was _never_ sad. Eventually he became aware of the hazel boring into him. 

“What?”

“Why do you look lke that?” 

“Like what?” 

“Like...”” Cass paused and scrunched her brow as she fished around for the right words to describe what he saw. “Like how Captain Williams looks when he talks about Cynthia.”

Cap ran a hand over Cass’s hair, taking care not to tug at any of the myriad knots scattered through its length, and swallowed hard at the mention of his captain’s late wife who Cass knew only through stories. He wasn’t fully ready for this conversation, hadn’t meant for it to happen (serves him right for being spontaneous, he supposed), but now that he was faced with it, he was surprised to find that, for some inexplicable reason, he didn’t want to shrug it off, tell her ‘it’s nothing,’ and shove the topic back into long-term storage to collect dust until this night had long faded from memory.

“Well,” he began, letting his hand still in the choppy raven sea, “I guess that’s because I was also thinking about someone I miss who isn’t here anymore.” 

“Who?” Cass asked, staring up owlishly as one hand absently drifted up towards the cause of their being out at this hour. He gently moved it back down to her lap, keepng it enveloped in his large, calloused one. 

“Don’t do that; you’ll make it worse.” Cass grunted and squirmed in his lap. “But it itches!”

Maybe the night air and late hour was making him feel impish, because he smirked, saying, "Quit trying to touch your ear and I’ll tell you.” “Dad....” Cass giggled just a little as she groaned, but nestled close, pointedly shoving her free hand under her legs and looking up at him expectantly.

Cap took a steadying breath, then, his voice quiet in a way that it was almost never wonted to be: “My dad.” 

“You have a dad?” Cass cocked an eyebrow, the late hour and persistent soreness not serving to dampen her skeptical nature in the slightest. 

“Had, sweetheart,” Cap gently corrected. “And yes, I did.” He paused to chuckle briefly at the look on Cass’s face as she tried to figure out how she hadn’t realized this before ( _of course_ he had a dad). "Anyway,” he lifted his eyes back to the celestial diamonds shimmering above "He loved looking at the stars. Almost every night, no matter how cold it got, if it wasn’t too cloudy or raining he would go outside and just look up at them. He could stare at them for hours, and I think he would have happily stayed out there until sunrise if my mother didn’t call him in and threaten to give his half of their bed to the neighbor’s mastiff.” He smiled at the memory, and Cass turned her head to follow her father’s gaze.

“What did he like about them?” she asked after a minute, tilting her head as she stared at the twinkling lights; they sure didn’t _seem_ interesting enough to merit staring at them for hours. “Well,” Cap said, pausing as he dredged up images and feelings of nights long ago, so long he had nearly forgotten. “He liked that they were peaceful; they didn’t do anything but sit up there, night after night, always shining in the same way. He also thought they were beautiful, and liked to admire them. And he liked to look at the constellations; I think he knew every one.” 

“What’s a constant-lation?” Cass asked, eyes searching the blackish-blue welkin for...whatever one was. "Constellation,” Cap corrected. “It’s a group of stars that form a sort of picture. If you were to plot them out on paper and draw lines connecting them in a certain way, you’d see a picture.” 

“Really?” Cass asked with interest, turning to look up at him. “Do you know any?”

Cap hummed as he scanned the sky, thinking back to similar nights when he sat on his father’s knee under the night’s glistening mantle, unable to sleep for one reason or another. “Well, I know that one,” he loosed her hand to indicate one particular star cluster, "is supposed to be a swan, and that one,” he pointed to a second relatively close to the first, “is an eagle. There’s also a harp-thingy, a centaur, and a man grabbing a snake.” He pointed to the general vicinity of each in turn, and Cass’s head followed his hand like a kitten with a dancing string. She peered critically up at the twinkling lights, tilting her head left, then right. Finally, she glanced over at him and asked, “Could your dad see okay? I can’t see any of that stuff."

Cap laughed out loud at his daughter’s practical, decidedly un-sentimental reaction, and there was a surcease in the cricket and frog’s symphony at the sound that was foreign to all but a few ears. 

“You know,” he said around the mirth, mussing Cass’s already mussed hair affectionately. “I told him the same thing.”

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************

Years later, Cass stalked through a wild, desolate landscape, alone save for Owl, coasting quietly overhead, loyal as ever though his judgmental attitude rained down on her like rays from the sun. The moon was new, but she could see her way just fine, the sharp aqua eyes easily picking out pointed obsidian spires, clumps of withered brown grass and, off in the distance, the shattered ruins of a wooden caravan that had once felt like home. She supposed her unusual clarity of sight in the stygian black was thanks to the moonstone firmly implanted in her chest, glowng with its own fluroscent blue light, filling her veins with it until it spilled out her eyes and hair, bestowing her with its arcane power. 

She truly was a creature of the night now. Ever since she had snatched the relic out of Rapunzel’s grasp and claimed it for her own, the sun had seemed too bright, too harsh, too revealing, and the cool nothingness of night was so welcoming, so familiar, so safe. But for some reason it failed to bring her peace like she felt it should. 

Cass crushed a tenacious flower under her armor-clad foot, grinding it into dust. Pathetic, she knew, assaulting a daisy, but it was something to do, something to fill the empty void in her chest, for even though she was now filled with power, the dull clenching ache was still there, gnawing at her heart and corroding her sanity. She had hoped the moonstone would make it go away, but it hadn’t. Go figure. 

She had been drifting aimlessly these past few nights since she took it, asking herself what to do next, what the next step of fulfilling her destiny could be, but her well of ideas was chronically dry. She was used to having her life laid out before her by someone else’s hand: her father’s, the other members of the castle staff, the king, the princess. 

_The princess_

Another daisy was pulverised. May as well do pathetic things; she was pathetic, not knowing what to do with herself once she was _finally_ her own master. Maybe that weird blue girl would show up again and give her some guidance; after all, this was _her_ idea.

Frustrated, Cass quit her trek and stopped to lay on the rocky ground, not feeling the scree poking her back thanks to the impentrable armor, and stared vacantly up at the firmament high above. Thousands of minute shimmering dots freckled the face of the sky, their individual lights fading and brightening as they twittered and whispered and gossiped as always, discussing the scene miles below. The wind blew across the wasteland, ruffling the cyan tresses as though curious at the unnatural hue, and it whstled, long and low, almost sounding disappointed, before wending away to investigate the ruined caravan. Cass continued her study of the heavens, eyes critical and angry as she mulled her situation. They drifted over to a small set of four stars, idly tracing invisible lines between them so they formed a cross. The eyes suddenly widened: the cross had become a swan. They darted elsewhere. An eagle. The sky was suddenly filled with more than just stars: a harp-thingy, a centaur, a man grabbing a snake. The wind changed, and she heard laughter, mirthful and rough in a voice she knew so, so well, and was transported to a night so, so long ago.

The laughter died as the wind fled the scene, chased away by a feral, anguished yell as Cass rolled over to bury her face in the dry, dead dirt littered with sharp, piercing rocks. They dug into her colorless skin, threatening to lance and cut her, water the shale with her blood, but Cass didn't care; she was desperate to fill her eyes with anything but what was overhead, one clamorous thought ringing in her head, drowning out all others.

_What have I done?_

**Author's Note:**

> What have I done?!?
> 
> I was originally going to have this end fluffy but it got away from me and, lo and behold: angst.
> 
> In case anyone's curious, the constellations referred to are Cygnus the Swan, Aquila the Eagle, Lyra the lyre (i.e. harp-thingy), Sagittarius the centaur, and Ophiuchus, the Greek healer Asclepius who is often depicted holding a snake, all of which are visible in the Northern Hemisphere during the summer (I know precious little about astronomy and used Google liberally).
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this and thanks so much for reading!


End file.
